


Tighter

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: Quentin has a kink that Eliot discovers quite by accident; certain curiosities are explored.





	Tighter

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own The Magicians: they own me. This is just for fun. Title courtesy of @rizcriz. Comments and Kudos are magic! Enjoy.

Tighter

By Lexalicious70 (TheChampagneKing70)

 

One thing Eliot loved about spending the summers at Brakebills was that he could experiment in the kitchen without interruption.

 

Sure, he cooked while the others were there and just this last semester he’d introduced all the first-year kids to egg flips and chicken with whiskey marinade, but it was hard to try his hand at more complicated meals, like the lamb ravioli he wanted to make for himself and Quentin, when there were twenty or more drunken idiots stumbling around the kitchen, spilling your spices and throwing up in the sink. But now that it was quiet and he and Quentin pretty much had the Physical Kids Cottage to themselves, Eliot could throw himself into trying this new dish.

 

First, though, he’d need to double-check the list of ingredients.

 

Eliot headed across the sunlit campus, a cigarette trailing smoke from his left hand. There was a tiny knot of excitement sitting low in his belly that he tried to explain away with the anticipation of cooking a new dish and the general rush he got from being completely independent for a few months, but a part of him, one that he often had to tell to shut up before it gave everything away, Goddamn it, shouted out that it was the result of having Quentin all to himself again.

 

Not that Quentin would notice Eliot’s desire for him—he was quickly becoming wrapped up in Alice Quinn, and although Margo swore she got a bisexual vibe from Quentin, Eliot didn’t dare to hope. Besides, Quentin and Alice were both super nerds, so maybe they thought they were required to become a couple, and Eliot didn’t think it was his place to interfere.

 

Eliot snuffed out his smoke, flicked the butt into a nearby potted plant, and ducked down a small flight of stairs into a common area where the school stored a small assortment of laptops. Few students had access to electronics and didn’t like to carry them anyway because the magical energies that surrounded the school had a way of fizzing them out. However, with most everyone away, Eliot knew he could get online to copy down that recipe and get back to the cottage before Quentin knew he was gone. He rounded the corner of the stairwell, trying to recall the school’s internet access password, and then pulled up as he realized that Quentin was sitting at one of the laptops, his back to him. His shoulders were rising and falling fast, and on the screen, a tall lanky boy with dark hair was pulling on the long brown hair of the boy who was on his knees and on the giving end of a blowjob that didn’t look entirely consensual. Arousal flickered through Eliot’s groin and he considered his options: he could either A. Keep watching, B. Keep watching and stealthily jack off, C. Retreat, or D. Make his presence known. While his cock wildly voted for B., Eliot still wanted to make the lamb ravioli. He cleared his throat deliberately.

 

“Quentin?”

 

The younger magician jumped like he’d been goosed and slammed the laptop lid so hard that the rollaway ledge it sat on fell out of its traces. Quentin juggled the laptop and winced as the drawer slammed into his knees and then clattered to the floor. He hugged the laptop against his chest.

 

“Whatwhoanothing!” He babbled as he stood up and faced Eliot, his eyes liquid and shiny in the low light of the small room. “Nothing!”

 

“Nothing . . .?” Eliot ventured. “I didn’t ask you anything, Quentin.”

 

“I was just. Uhhhm.” The sound was shaky, ranging in octaves. “I was sending an email to Julia, you know, we’re trying to communicate after that whole nightmare spell dream thing, and—and I don’t know, someone must have left a tab open or something? Uhm. You know. Like a default thing?”

 

“Okay, but I’m not sure how many people have their homepage set to—” Eliot yanked the laptop from Quentin’s arms with his telekinesis and floated it into his own hands, where he opened it “—hornyforhair.com.”

 

“Eliot!” It was almost a wail.

 

“Oh, stop.” Eliot chided as he set the laptop down and tapped the video’s play button again to watch for a moment. He couldn’t help notice how the young man receiving the blow job resembled him, at least in body type and hair color. “We all have our weird little desires, Quentin, it’s nothing to curl up and die over!”

 

“Easy for you to say!”

 

“It could be easy for you too, if you stopped overthinking everything.” Eliot paused the video. Quentin tucked his hands under his arms and stared at the floor, and Eliot considered his next words carefully, despite his advice to Quentin the last time he’d spoken. “All right. If I tell you something about myself regarding this kind of thing, will you answer a question for me?”

 

“I’ll try.” Quentin murmured, and Eliot nodded.

 

“That’s fair.” Eliot adjusted the front of vest and gave Quentin time to settle. “I myself enjoy blindfolds.” He said after a moment, and Quentin’s head came up.

 

“Wearing them, or putting them on someone else?” He asked, and Eliot smiled, surprised by Quentin’s curiosity where he’d expected more embarrassment.

 

“It depends on the situation, on the people involved. But I think it’s very erotic.”

 

“I’d never thought about it.” Quentin replied quietly. “What’s your question?”

 

“When you indulge—” He nodded at the laptop. “Is it always two men?”

 

“Usually.” It was barely audible.

 

“How come?”

 

“It’s not about the gender. It’s more like . . .” Quentin gestures. “Men tend to be more dominant and I like—when I think about it, I’m . . .” Quentin’s courage failed him and Eliot put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You’re on the receiving end of the pulling?” He asked, and Quentin nodded.

 

“Yeah. God, that must sound so weird to you, El, I—”

 

“Hush.” Eliot held up his other hand. “It doesn’t and I’m not unfamiliar with submissive games, Quentin, I’ve played them myself in the past. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and if you’re playing them with someone you trust, it can be especially enjoyable.” Eliot’s big hand moved up into Quentin’s hair, pushing it back, where it lingered. Quentin looked up at him, and then Eliot’s fingers tangled and tightened about an inch from the ends. Quentin gave a sharp intake of air, and Eliot licked his lips.

 

“Do you trust me, Quentin?” He asked, and Quentin nodded.

 

“Yes!” The word caught on some emotion Eliot couldn’t place, but he didn’t bolt, which was more than Eliot could have hoped for. He slid his other hand into Quentin’s hair and then gripped with both hands. Quentin shuddered in response, and the resulting, sudden hardon it gave Eliot almost made him feel dizzy. He tugged forward to see whether Quentin would fight him, but the younger magician only submitted to the motion, his eyes falling closed, his mouth opening slightly. Eliot pulled him forward again until their lips were touching, wanting Quentin to greenlight any further contact. There was a pause that felt eternal to Eliot, and then Quentin’s lips were pressing against his. Eliot gave a shuddering sigh and then Quentin’s head was rolling and tossing in his hands. Eliot swam in a moment of panic before he realized that Quentin was silently asking for more instead of trying to flee. He kissed Quentin’s soft, full lips twice before tugging on his hair, pulling downward. Quentin obeyed and went to his knees on the polished concrete floor as if yanked down by an invisible wire. Eliot tugged and petted his hair and Quentin looked up at him.

 

“Ah ah! Who told you to look at me?” Eliot smiled and rocked his hips forward and the fly of his trousers bumped against Quentin’s lips. Quentin gasped, but Eliot’s strong hands tangled into his long hair kept him still. “Open them.” The taller man commanded, and Quentin lifted his hands to pull down the fly and undo the button. His fingers felt numb and the concrete was rough under his knees, but his cock was an iron rod inside his boxers. He pulled down Eliot’s trousers and Eliot gave his hair a sudden tug. “Just the slacks! There’s no need to rush. Good.” Eliot nodded, tightening his grip on Quentin’s hair and holding him so Quentin’s lips touched his erection, outlined in damp silk. Quentin breathed in Eliot’s scent and then slowly exhaled, and the resulting rush of warm air made Eliot shiver. He kept Quentin there until the younger man began to nuzzle and then kiss the sheathed flesh.

 

“El . . .” He groaned, and Eliot looked down at him, muscles in his belly and lower groin jumping and fluttering.

 

“Pull them down.” He said, his voice slightly uneven, and Quentin yanked the boxers down. Eliot’s erection clubbed him under the chin and Quentin blinked at the size of it. He’d watched his fair share of porn over the years, and knew enough to understand that his friend was definitely above average. Eliot yanked on his hair and Quentin gave a yelp of surprise mingled with pain that also sent dark thrills of pleasure to his groin. Eliot grinned. “Pay attention . . .” He pulled Quentin forward by the hair until Quentin’s lips smacked into his erection, and Quentin groaned as he gave himself over to the fantasy he’d played out in his head a thousand times in his narrow bed in the Cottage. He teased the head of Eliot’s cock with his tongue messily, without experience but with plenty of enthusiasm. Eliot inhaled sharply and pulled on Quentin’s silky hair, winding his fingers around the long lengths.

 

“Harder. Please.” Quentin whimpered against the hot, pulsing flesh, and Eliot responded by pulling Quentin’s away from his groin. Quentin made a needy sound and then he was gasping and moaning, his mouth full of Eliot’s cock, as the taller man pulled him forward roughly and wordlessly commanded him to take it. Quentin hollowed his cheeks, sucking, and was rewarded instantly with hard, eager yanks to his hair, helping his head move back and forth with the rhythm of his sucking. One hand fumbled his own fly open to free his erection, and Eliot watched, his eyes shuttered in pure pleasure, as Quentin sucked him and his right hand flogged his leaking dick.

 

“That’s it Q . . . come on . . . you’re so fucking beautiful . . .” Eliot wound his fingers tighter into Quentin’s hair, eliciting another whine of pleasure from the younger magician. His groin tightened at the sound. “Fucking suck me, I’m close, Q . . .” He pulled and tugged on Quentin’s hair until Quentin’s mouth and tongue pushed him over the edge. Eliot gave a short, sharp cry as he yanked Quentin forward, holding him there, as Quentin let Eliot’s issue spurt against his lips and tongue. It soaked his mouth and neck, and then Eliot was falling to his knees, his hands still tangled in Quentin’s hair. He kissed Quentin’s shiny lips, his left hand coming down to cover Quentin’s right, his other hand still tugging and pulling. Quentin gasped against Eliot’s mouth as they both jacked his cock, and then Quentin was giving helpless, cries, muffled by Eliot’s lips, as he came, fountaining against their joined hands, the pulses so intense Quentin felt like he might pass out. Dopamine flooded his brain, and he reflected in a giddy way that this beat the shit out of any meds he’d ever taken.

 

He came around to himself a moment later to find both himself and Eliot leaning against the desk where he’d been sitting earlier, each of their dicks wilted and leaking. Eliot’s amber eyes were large and gleaming with pleasure and his dark hair was tousled. His lips were slightly swollen and shiny, and Quentin grinned. His own hair felt like a tumbleweed, the roots tingling with pain that wasn’t completely painful and he used the hand that wasn’t sticky to smooth it down.

 

“Wow.” He said softly, and Eliot turned his head to smile at him.

 

“To hell with the lamb ravioli.” He said, and Quentin furrowed his brow. This caused Eliot to chuckle and put his arm around Quentin. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain later. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good. I mean—yeah. It was really good, El. Thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Eliot tucked himself away and Quentin did the same before Eliot tugged Quentin to his feet and handed him his laptop. “And next time I’ll show you a different position or two.”

 

Quentin’s heart leapt into the base of his throat and then spelunked back down into his ribcage.

 

“Uhm—next time?”

 

“Yes, Quentin, next time . . . unless you’d prefer to get off on cheap internet porn all summer instead of playing games with me?”

 

“No! Of course not, I just—” Quentin’s dark eyes tipped up to Eliot’s as they climbed the stairs. “You can teach me, right? More things to do?”

 

Eliot smiled and paused to light a cigarette as they stepped out into the warm summer night. The campus was quiet, the space filled with cricket song, and Eliot looped a long arm around Quentin’s shoulders.

 

“Oh, Quentin . . . I think it’s going to be a very educational summer.”

 

_FIN_


End file.
